


Stealing Pigs and Concubines

by themiss



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Concubines, Crossdressing, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themiss/pseuds/themiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick thinks that he’s probably done something worse than having sex with the king’s favourite concubine, but he can’t really think of anything right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stealing Pigs and Concubines

**Author's Note:**

> The usual disclaimers apply: I do not own the people depicted in this story and this has never happened nor do I mean to imply that it has or could happen.

Nick has always been spectacularly good at getting himself into trouble. There was that time when he stole the duchess’s favourite pig, Henwyn, who had even won a couple of awards for her beautifully rounded belly and pale colour. Nick hadn’t known that when he roasted Henwyn over a merry little fire. Nick still thinks it’s unfair that he was hunted down and punished with fifty strokes of the duchess’s whip.

 

But anyway, that’s not really the worst thing Nick has ever done. The worst thing he’s ever done is far, far worse than Henwyn’s demise. The worst Nick has ever done is currently resting in his arms, dark eyelashes covering the sea-green eyes that will undoubtedly lead to _Nick’s_ demise. Nick thinks that he’s probably done something worse than having sex with the king’s favourite concubine, but he can’t really think of anything right now.

 

Harry’s dark curly are fanned over Nick’s thigh and he wants to touch them, but somehow that feels even worse than just having sex with him. Touching the curls on Harry’s head (he’s certainly touched hair on other parts of Harry’s body) seems more intimate somehow, like this could actually mean something more than it does. More than it should.

 

“What are you thinking of?“ Harry asks, his voice rumbling slow and easy, just like Nick likes it. He could probably drown in this voice and never think to come up for air.

 

“I’m thinking that I’ve lived for twenty-eight winters and that the twenty-ninth will be my death,“ Nick replies honestly and for some reason his fingers are winding into Harry’s hair now, touching and stroking although he knows that he really, really shouldn’t.

 

Nick wasn’t planning on fucking the king’s favourite concubine when he came to the palace, he really wasn’t. It was just because he needed a job and he has no skills he could ever use in the rural North where he was born. Nick’s hands aren’t made for menial labour. He likes talking and making jokes, though, and the king seems to think he’s funny.

 

Nick wonders how funny the king would find him if he knew that he has one hand in Harry’s hair and the other under his skirts. Nick isn’t sure why the king insists that even his male concubines wear the heavy, ankle-length brocade skirts that make it next to impossible for the poor lads to move around in. But maybe that’s the whole point. Maybe they aren’t supposed to move around at all. If you want to pinion a hawk you’re training for hunting you make sure to weigh it down.

 

Harry’s eyes open and Nick looks down at him. He never knows what Harry is thinking. He never knows if he really wants to be in this tiny hut the king let him have, lying on Nick’s bed of the cotton sheets when he could have satin in the palace. Harry’s eyes never leave his as his hands wander down his own body and undo the sash holding together the ridiculous brocade thing weighing him down.

 

“You won’t die,“ Harry replies and it’s been so long since Nick replied to Harry’s question that he’s almost forgotten what they’re talking about. “No one will ever know.“

 

“If you keep your mouth shut.“

 

“But then I couldn’t blow you.“

 

Nick flinches because Harry’s not dirty like this, not usually. Harry is a fairy tale princess living the unfortunate life of a whore. “What happened today?“ Nick asks and when the robe finally slides off Harry’s shoulder he can see for himself.

 

He’s always admired Harry’s slender wrists, the delicate bones that look hollow somehow, like a bird’s. Sometimes he’ll wear dainty bracelets around them to show them off. Today they’re ringed by bruises that reach up all the way to his shoulders, like sick tattoos. There are more of these marks on his hips and the inner sides of his thighs and Nick has never known that he has a violent streak, but he really wants to kill someone now.

 

“What did you do to displease his majesty so?“ he asks, making sure to keep his tone light and joking; Harry doesn’t need him to freak out about this, does he?

 

Harry shakes his head. “It wasn’t him. He invited the duke and the duke asked for me. You know I can’t say no to the duke. He’s the king’s brother.“

 

Nick would have a lot to say to his brother if he ever hurt anyone like that, but he swallows the words and lightly touches Harry’s hips instead. “Let me take care of you then.“

 

It’s not even a question; Nick is quite determined to make this all better, even if he goes straight to the gallows for even looking at the king’s favourite concubine.

 

Harry spreads his legs automatically, like he expects Nick to go straight for the prize between his legs and Nick won’t lie, he loves fucking Harry. But that’s not what he’s going to do now. It’s not about that. It’s about making Harry feel good for a change.

 

Moving forward, he captures Harry’s lips in a kiss. The boy’s back arches and his entire body is pressing against Nick’s, like he can’t get enough of it and part of Nick likes to think that this is genuine, that Harry really likes being kissed by him. The boy tastes of expensive wine and smells of cheap perfume that he’s only wearing to mask the smell of sex lurking just beneath the surface.

 

Nick twines their fingers together, pins Harry’s hands over his head. He doesn’t like the way he’s sometimes feeling about the boy. He doesn’t like how he’s so possessive and needy. Before Harry he fucked whoever was willing and not too hard to look at and it was all right. It wasn’t about love or possessing someone, it was simply about getting off. But that’s not true about Harry. With him he wants something more and that something more could kill him.

 

“Harry,“ he whispers, breaking the kiss and he knows he shouldn’t have said that. It’s only gonna make things harder.

 

His grip on the boy’s wrists is light enough for Harry to slip out one of his hands and bring it up to cup Nick’s cheek. “Don’t speak,“ he whispers.

 

Nick turns his head to kiss Harry’s palm and he finds that the concubine’s skin is hot and feverish. His attempt at tenderness is rewarded with a gentle moan and Nick knows it’s best that way. He knows how to have sex, they’re both quite good at that. Feelings aren’t their forte and perhaps they don’t need to be.

 

With anyone else he would have had the time to make this good, to make it count, but he doesn’t have that kind of time with Harry. He can only ever get him off and he can’t do anything truly special or remarkable enough to make Harry remember the occasion.

 

Placing his hands on Harry’s milky white thighs, careful not to touch any of the bruises, he spreads his legs open. There’s something intimate about doing this to someone else, opening them up and looking at parts of their body that are usually hidden. He knows that others have seen Harry like this before, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s making him hard. There’s no time for him, though. Not today.

 

Darting out his tongue, Nick licks a wet stripe down from the place just behind Harry’s balls to his hole. When he looks up he can see that Harry is biting his lip, can see how the bottom lip is swelling under his teeth. It’s a beautiful sight and he wishes he liked the boy a lot less so he could just fuck him into the mattress and forget about trying to be decent to him. He can’t, though. He needs to make this count somehow and remind Harry that he’s more than the king’s concubine.

 

Keeping the tip of his tongue soft and relaxed, he licks around Harry’s rim, getting him all good and wet first. Harry’s been fucked many times before, but Nick knows it isn’t easy for him. He has a hard time relaxing at first and while the king and the duke may coo over how tight he is, Nick knows it doesn’t need to be painful fort he lad. Keeping his legs in place with his hands on Harry’s thighs, he keeps licking him, soft and gentle. Harry’s wriggling and trying to move closer to Nick’s face, but he won’t have it. He’s going to make this last for as long as he can before he has to return Harry to all the other people who would never do that kind of thing for him.

 

The lad calms down after a while and that is when Nick feels it safe to drop his hands down to Harry’s arse cheeks and spread them wider. The boy’s back arches again and Nick gets an excellent view of that secret place the king is so fond of fucking. Harry’s hole is pink and perfect and clenching, like he desperately wants something in there, something for his tight muscles to milk and-

 

No, no he’s not gonna fuck him. Not today.

 

Leaning back in, he presses his tongue against Harry’s hole and this time the tip is as hard as Nick can make it. It slips through the ring of muscles and into Harry’s body. The heat he finds is at odds with Harry’s normal behaviour. He’s always controlled and relaxed, but apparently there’s something else pulsing inside of him, a passion only Nick ever gets to see.

 

Nuzzling his balls, he keeps thrusting his tongue, in and out, just like it would go if he was fucking him and Harry whimpers in that broken way, like he just can’t help himself.

 

“More, Nick. Please… more.“

 

Nick wonders when the last time was when Harry truly begged instead of just pretending that he was. It doesn’t matter. Slipping his tongue back out, he replaces it with a finger. Or, he tries to at least. He’s not gonna be an arsehole about this. He’s gonna do this slow and gentle and-

 

The clock strikes in the distance and Harry’s eyes fly open.

 

“I need to go.“ Shoving Nick away, he quickly jumps to his feet and starts rearranging the many layers of brocade and silk the king has bought to restrain him.

 

Nick gets up, his hands hanging by his sides, and watches him. At last Harry is finished and looks ready to go. He also looks like he wants to say something. He bites his lip, still red and swollen from biting it, but then shakes his head and starts running. His running is awkward because he had a growth spurt not to long ago and he was never meant to wear a dress anyway.

 

Nick watches him go and says nothing. Harry isn’t really his to keep anyway.


End file.
